


Meth Baby

by Mattycakes



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mattycakes/pseuds/Mattycakes
Summary: Tweek finds a baby while making a meth pickup for his parents. He brings it to his pretend boyfriend Craig's house and they agree not to take it to the police. (Set after Tweek x Craig, spoiler/references to Stick of Truth kind of)





	

“Tweek. What the fuck are you holding.”

“What does it – NNG! – look like?!” Tweek asked in a shrill voice, gritting his teeth in an effort to keep his volume down. He’d only just gotten the thing to sleep, but now it was squirming and making angry little sounds of distress.

Craig Tucker took in the sight of his pretend boyfriend, sopping wet in the midnight rain, with a noisy, writhing, naked ball of flesh clinging to his chest. “It looks like you’re holding a baby. Where did you get a baby, Tweek?” Craig asked, his eerily calm voice not betraying the panic welling in his throat.

“I-I-I found him,” Tweek said, shaking in the cold. “He was all alone and it’s starting to rain and I couldn’t just _leave_ him…”

Tweek broke off as his teeth began to chatter. “Get inside first,” Craig insisted, ushering the pair in. Craig took the clammy bundle from Tweek’s sopping embrace and the infant made a happy sound against Craig’s dryer, much warmer torso. 

“You know where I keep my shirts and crap,” Craig whispered to Tweek, who was wet and shaking. Tweek nodded and went to Craig’s bedroom to help himself to some dry clothes, and when he came back, Craig was humming Smoke on the Water in a gravelly baritone to the now sleeping infant. 

“You’re… actually not terrible at that,” Tweek said quietly, trying to ignore the weird pull of unidentifiable emotions that came from seeing Craig with a baby. 

“I honestly don’t know how this thing is alive,” Craig said quietly, jiggling his arms smoothly with soothing rocking motions. “Where did you say you found it?”

Tweek fidgeted uncomfortably. “It’s a ‘him’ not an ‘it’.” The baby made a happy cooing sound. “And I… I was making a pickup for my dad…”

Craig narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t quite been able to like Tweek’s parents since finding out their coffee’s ‘secret ingredient’, or the fact that they often used their only son to procure it from the most dangerous parts of town. He looked down at the baby pityingly. “Bet your parents are white trash drug addicts, huh?” The baby made a gurgling noise, as though agreeing. 

Tweek tugged nervously at a lock of his hair. “Craig, I know I should have taken him to the police station, I don’t know why I didn’t, I don’t know why we aren’t, oh god Craig I’m so sorry I’ve gotten you into this and now we’re going to be arrested oh god oh god oh god,” he said in a rush, his body giving a nervous spasm. Craig stayed calm and didn’t respond, used to Tweek’s occasional anxious outbursts. He distantly wondered how Tweek had managed to keep his myoclonic twitches under control with such precious cargo in his arms on the way over here, and felt something like pride in his chest at knowing Tweek had probably kept them at bay with sheer willpower. 

“You did the right thing, Tweek,” Craig said in a low, soothing voice, pleased when Tweek’s rapidly moving chest slowed considerably. “The station isn’t for another few blocks and it’s really cold. He might not have survived. We can call the station from here,” Craig said, but even as he said it aloud, the baby in his arms stirred and cried out sharply, and Craig felt his arms tighten protectively around the child without really meaning them to. 

Tweek looked up in alarm. “You see! I thought it was in my head, but you feel it too! I’m not crazy!”

“Tweek, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Craig said, but his heart was hammering as he realised how badly he didn’t want to take the infant to the police. He shook his head and cradled the infant closer to his chest to calm it down. “Look Tweek, it’s natural to not want to give up a found baby. Probably just protective instincts and shit. But this is a kid, not a dog. We can’t keep it. You get that, right?”

Tweek stared long and hard at Craig and then nodded. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Oh God, I nearly became a kidnapper, oh Jesus, Craig am I a kidnapper?”

“No Tweek,” Craig said tiredly, glancing at the clock. “Oh shit, it’s past midnight. If I call the cops now, we’ll be in processing for hours.”

“But… but what about his parents? They might be worried sick!” Tweek argued, and the baby laughed. It sounded oddly derisive. 

“You found him near a meth lab, Tweek,” Craig said, stifling a yawn. “He’s probably abandoned, poor little fucker. We’ll just be taking him to a foster home, likely.”

“That’s really sad,” Tweek said quietly, looking forlornly at the infant cradled against Craig’s chest. 

“Not all the time,” Craig said, and although it was in answer to Tweek’s question, he said it in a soft voice, to the baby. “Sometimes foster parents are real great. You might get a real nice set of parents. You might get some spinster with twenty cats, wouldn’t that be awesome? Waking up every day surrounded by kitty cats? If I could wake up every day surrounded by fuzzy pets I would be sooo happy,” The baby made a happy, sleepy noise. “Or, you know, you might get gay parents. You’d get into any school you wanted, and nobody would ever be allowed to pick on you.” The baby and Tweek both smiled at that. 

“Hey Tweek, can you take this guy before he falls asleep? Or before I do?” Craig looked like he’d rather like to nap on the couch. Tweek, on the other hand, felt like he wouldn’t be sleeping for a couple of days after all this excitement. 

“Go ahead,” Tweek said, reaching for the baby. “Get some rest, I’ll wake you if anything’s wrong.”

Craig smiled, letting his eyes droop and his vision blur with the first bleary traces of sleep. The last thing he saw before going under was Tweek smiling down at a happy, sleepy baby. 

It was a nice image to fall asleep to, Craig thought as he dozed off. 

Around about four thirty, Tweek started to feel sleepy. Around five AM, he thought the sleep must be getting to him something dreadful because he could swear the infant in his arms, the one that had just hours ago been the delicate weight of a newborn was roughly the size and weight of one year old. Tweek shook his head. No, that was impossible. His arms were just tired. And his brain. He needed to sleep. 

“Craig? Craig, I’m falling asleep,” Tweek whispered, nudging Craig with his foot. 

“Shit, hang on,” Craig mumbled sleepily, stumbling about the half-lit room, pulling all the couch and chair cushions out of their positions to make a crude mattress on the floor. “C’mere,” Craig slurred, already moving to his creation to collapse and fall back into sleep. It looked very comfortable and tempting, but Tweek clutched the baby protectively. “What if we squash him?” Tweek asked fearfully. 

“We won’t,” Craig assured Tweek, opening an eye when the baby made a grunt. “You’ll definitely drop him if you’re too tired to hold him though.”

That sold Tweek. He lay down next to Craig, with the baby in his arms, but he was frozen with fear. “What if I move and kill him?” he whispered into the air. 

“Oh for… mind his head, will you?” Craig quickly wrapped his arms around Tweek, locking him in a tight embrace. “There. Now you can’t move because I’ve got you and he can’t move because you’ve got him. We’re all fine. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

And maybe it was the tight security of Craig’s grip or the comfort of having a warm, small being nestled against his chest, but for the first time in a long time, Tweek did.

*  
When Craig woke up, his face was itchy. Something was pricking against it. His first instinct was to pull away from the source of the prickliness, but it smelled nice, and was attached to something warm and solid in Craig’s arms, and Craig sleepily moved forwards to press into more of that comforting warmth. 

Tweek, Craig remembered suddenly, his eyes opening to be met immediately with the sting of Tweek’s spikey flyaway hairs. Craig moved his face into the crook of Tweek’s neck to peer over Tweek’s sleeping shoulder and check on the baby, his heart rate picking up as Tweek made a kind of happy little sigh in his sleep. Craig’s heart nearly broke through his chest, however, as he realised the tiny bundle in Tweek’s arms was not there. 

Holy shit, Craig thought numbly to himself, horror spreading through his veins. 

“Good morning.” 

Craig whipped his head around. Tweek made another noise, but did not stir, his brain having apparently crashed for a good long while after what Craig suspected was at least a few days without sleep. Craig wondered if he was still asleep himself. Because sitting at the end of their makeshift bed, stark naked, was Kenny McCormick. 

“You two,” Kenny drawled, ignoring Craig’s open jaw, “are so gay for each other. You’re so in love, it’s nauseating. I’m almost sad you don’t actually get to adopt me.” He sighed. “Well, this was great, but I gotta bounce. I’m stealing some of your clothes,” Kenny informed Craig matter of factly, before striding nude down the hall, leaving Craig in shock, his arms still deathlocked around Tweek’s sleeping figure. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. This was insane. 

“Kenny,” Craig said, as Kenny re-entered the room wearing a set of Craig’s blue clothes. “You were a baby.”

Kenny laughed. “Yeah, long story. I’d explain it to you, but there’s really no point. As soon as I leave, your memories are going to alter. It’s how my curse works. I promise you, you’re not even going to remember this conversation.” Kenny sounded kind of sad about it, and that’s what made Craig believe him. 

“Shit… sorry dude,” Craig said, and Kenny smiled and waved his hand like it was nothing. 

“Eh, you can’t help it. You two take care of each other though, yeah?” Kenny said, jamming one of Craig’s blue hats onto his head and leaving through the front door. As soon as it closed, Tweek gave a stir.

“G-good morning,” Tweek said with a yawn, flushing at how nice it felt to wake up in Craig’s arms. Craig’s arms? “Craig, why are your arms around me? Why am I at your house?”

Craig looked down, already confused. He felt like he had known a second ago, but the details were already fuzzy. He shook his head, to rid himself of the residual sleepiness he blamed for his confusion. “I think you came over last night? It was really late, I think I was… tired? I don’t remember much,” Craig confessed.

Tweek chewed his lip. It was a bad habit Craig had started to notice. “I don’t remember much either… I remember I hadn’t slept in a few days, and I remember making a pickup for my dad, and then I was really upset and came here…”

That sounded familiar. As Tweek spoke, images of memory flashed through Craig’s mind. He scowled slightly. “I’d be upset too if my parents sent me to a meth lab,” he grumbled. 

Tweek didn’t answer that, he was too busy looking around at the makeshift mattress assembled from couch cushions and spare pillows. “And, uh, and you gave me some clothes and made… this,” Tweek finished awkwardly, gesturing at the cozy nest. “Which was really comfortable, by the way” Tweek added in a small voice. “I slept better than I have in ages. I mean, I feel kind of crappy, but I also feel really good.” He seemed less jittery, Craig noticed. “I kind of feel like a coffee,” Tweek said, and Craig’s stomach dropped. 

“Hey Tweek, can you do me a favour and stop drinking your parents coffee?” Craig asked suddenly. 

Tweek gave his friend a sharp look. “Why?”

“Because you’re making pickups at a meth lab and it stands to reason your parents put meth in their coffee. Which you drink. Which bothers me.” Craig said all of this in his usual monotone, but it was laced with an edge of something else. “I’ll make you a coffee here. Whenever you want. Uh, my parents have a coffee maker, but I don’t know how to use it…” Craig admitted, and Tweek grinned. 

“I can show you,” Tweek offered. Kenny watched from the window as the two boys stood up and went to the kitchen.

Cute, Kenny thought to himself as he made a face and started the walk back to his house. Just his luck that his trash excuse for a mother would be high off her ass in the meth garage moments before his last death, and was too wasted to bother carrying her newborn son to bed after dropping him like a load. Kenny would be having a word with mother dearest when he got home and into something less… blue.

“Hey Craig!” Kenny heard Cartman’s guttural voice from across the street, and turned to see him standing with Butters, Stan and Kyle. Smirking to himself, Kenny raised his middle finger to the overweight boy, turned and walked away. 

“Hm. Remind me to slap Craig in the face tomorrow,” Cartman said to Stan and Kyle, watching the blue-clad figure continue walking away from Craig’s house.

**Author's Note:**

> Note; this is in NO WAY advice on what to do if you find a baby. If you find a baby, call the police, like immediately. 
> 
> My head canon for this story was that Kenny's curse works in such a way that the universe will try to righten itself around the paradox of his death/rebirth, causing people to act in ways which facilitate Kenny's smooth re-intergration with reality. 
> 
> In other words, Kenny's curse kind of got into their heads and convinced them not to go to the cops so that reality would righten itself without unnecessary hoo-hah.


End file.
